Everything
by ErisMalfoy1990
Summary: Harry Potter was murdered, but Fate gives him another chance. He is sent back to when he was born, but nothing is the same. With dreams of grey eyes every night and his powers having been unlocked the Harry to arrive at Hogwarts is one no one expected.
1. Chapter 1

It hurt everywhere. He wasn't sure what was going on either. There was yelling and Harry was sure he heard someone crying. Someone was holding him too, he wanted to tell them that he had blood all over him but he figured they already knew that.

He didn't remember how he had gotten hurt either. The last thing he remembered was walking down the hall. It was darker than usual but he thought nothing of it, after all he had just arrived and this was an older home. Things like that could happen all the time for all he knew.

Trying to open his eyes took more effort than he thought was normal. He finally opened them though.

The person holding him was the one crying. He recognized him, but couldn't remember from where. He tried to tell him not to cry. Harry didn't like when others cried, he never had. Trying to talk though made him choke so instead he just squeezed the hand holding onto his. He wasn't sure if it was the same boy's hand who was crying but he knew if it wasn't that the other person would reassure this person who seemed so sad.

He was tired, too tired. Sleep sounded really good, he just needed to close his eyes.

The screaming and crying became louder. He didn't understand why, but he was too tired to care.

Right before he fell into the welcoming darkness he heard the crying boy say, "I will always love you, always."

Harry Potter died with a smile on his lips.


	2. The Perfect Child

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**Warnings: abuse (emotional)**

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**Harry Potter was what most would consider a perfect child.

He never complained, never cried, and never fought with the other children his age.

His Aunt Petunia didn't mind having him around because the neighborhood ladies were all jealous of the little boy who was so smart and well behaved.

His Uncle Vernon just ignored him, he didn't want the boy around but there were things that just couldn't be helped.

His cousin Dudley tended to pick on him because of his small size, but Harry learned early that being small was useful for some things. Like running or hiding where no one could find him, considering Dudley's size there were plenty of those.

His teachers all praised him because of his intelligence. The quality of his work was far beyond his years and done with such ease that he was left with plenty of time to read. Reading soon became the main activity of his day.

His classmates all envied him, or resented him. None tried to be his friend though.

Harry Potter was what most would consider a perfect child, but no one is perfect even Harry Potter, no matter how hard he tried.

He never complained because he knew that his parent's had died in a car crash and he didn't want to seem ungrateful to his family for taking him in. He knew the alternative was an orphanage, somewhere he hoped to never go.

He never cried because he had once heard his Uncle Vernon say that only pansy boys cried. Uncle Vernon would never be proud of Harry, he had always known that, but he also didn't want a reason for Uncle Vernon to hate him either.

He never fought with other children his age because although the children ignored him didn't mean that Harry didn't long for a friend. Friends weren't made from confrontations; Harry knew that much, so he just stayed away hoping that one day someone would want to be his friend.

His Aunt Petunia was someone that Harry didn't know how to feel about. She seemed to like him while they were out in public; always with a hand on his shoulder, a comforting pat on his head, a smile when he was being complimented. Then while they were at home it was like she was a different person, except only to Harry. She never touched him, almost to the point of being completely ignored. Only she didn't ignore him, no she always made sure to tell him his chores and responsibilities; chores and responsibilities that Dudley never seemed to share.

His Uncle Vernon mainly ignored Harry. That was he never spoke to him, or touched him, and most of the time tried to avoid being in the same room altogether. But when they were, Harry could always feel hateful glares aimed at him. He never understood what he did to deserve them.

His cousin Dudley had invented a game he often liked to play called Harry Hunting. Harry learned early to run as soon as his cousin was in view. Being so much smaller than the other children was an advantage during the game though. He often found hiding spots that the bigger boys wouldn't think to look because of not being able to fit because of their large size; they weren't smart enough to realize that it was Harry's size that actually mattered.

His teacher's all seemed to appreciate Harry having been in their class, almost like he was a reprieve from the other students. He liked school much more than other children his age, his grades were always top of the class and done before most of the class was half way finished. He took to reading to pass the time since he had to friends to play with. He found the schoolwork much easier as time went on because of all of the reading he had already done; most lessons tended to be something he already knew.

His classmate's all seemed to hate Harry; some because of his intelligence, others because of his cousin Dudley. Harry had never had a friend; his only solace was in his dreams.

Every night for as long as Harry could remember he had dreams of exactly the same thing; grey eyes. It was always the same grey eyes every time too, and that's always all he ever saw. The emotions though were what comforted him; joy, peace, love. Harry knew instinctively that he had known this person, the one with the grey eyes. The feelings radiating from them were always so personal, like they were really looking at him and weren't just a dream. He knew of course that it was silly to think such things but he had never actually told anyone about the eyes so he felt as if he could have any thoughts he wanted, no one had to know.

Harry Potter always fell asleep with a smile on his lips, knowing when he closed his eyes that he would find solace in his dreams.


	3. The Birthday Party

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: This was a hard chapter for me, I am really needing a beta but am having trouble with finding one, so please don't stop reading just because of a mistake. Instead you could help by pointing it out, infact that would be really great. **

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It was Harry Potter's ninth birthday today.

In a world he once knew existed but had forgotten, there were parties celebrating the birth of their savior. In Surrey, there was a much different party going on.

Harry never had an actually birthday party like other children. He had parties of course; it would look as if the Dursleys couldn't afford them if they didn't happen, so his Aunt Petunia always holds a party.

Even though Harry received presents, he never received toys; it was requested on the invitation to not gift them. Harry didn't mind that much; after all he probably wouldn't have all of his nice books and close otherwise. No what upset Harry about his parties was that even though it was his birthday none of the children of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's friends ever spoke to him. In fact at more than one party Harry had ended up having to hide most of the night because Dudley decided to indulge himself in a game of Harry Hunting, and the other children were more than happy to join in.

So Harry Potter would always celebrate his birthday by opening presents that were given with meaningless intentions, thanking the person who gave him a new book or a pair of socks because even if the person was only giving it for appearance sake, Harry was grateful nonetheless. After all that was the only time he ever got presents.

His ninth birthday was different though.

He had woken with a headache, something that was rare but happened because of his glasses having a bad prescription. The feeling didn't leave though like it usually would after he ate something. No instead it seemed to increase and an odd itching sensation had begun to creep behind his eyes.

The feeling lasted throughout the day, it neither increased nor decreased and nothing seemed to be a relief from the aggravation.

By the time the party had arrived, the headache and itching felt like a constant buzzing.

Uncle Vernon had stressed how important tonight was for the last week, because not only were the usual guests coming but a potential client and his family were also.

The party started as always.

The adults were simpering to each other, all the children except Harry were in the backyard playing, and of course Harry was sitting under his favorite tree reading a book.

Harry was so engrossed with his book that he never took notice of his environment, until he felt someone sit in front of him. He didn't drop the book though incase it was a friend of Dudley's trying to play a prank; instead he lowered it just a little and looked over the edge.

The boy though was someone Harry had never seen, except for his eyes.

His eyes looked like the ones in his dreams, exactly like them. Harry had never met this boy though so he knew the eyes couldn't belong to him, but the resemblance still made him curious. Why would this boy have the same eyes?

At some point of his observations he had completely lowered his book and was staring at the blonde boy. He blushed at realizing how rude he must have been acting.

"Hello, I'm Draco Malfoy. What's your name?" The blonde boy seemed to be genuinely curious something that was new to Harry. Most of the time if someone asked his name they were in on some scheme with Dudley; he had learned that the hard way many times.

"Harry Potter," the widening of the other boys eyes made Harry stop thinking he did something wrong. He always seemed to do something wrong no matter how hard he tried not to. This time all it took was to say his name, no one disliked him so fast before.

Lowering his eyes to not let the other boy see the shine to them, Harry pulled open his book once again although he didn't actually read the words on the page, knowing this new boy wouldn't stick around much longer, none of the other children did.

"Did you say Harry Potter?" Harry continued to pretend to read, though he was confused on why the boy was still here.

Not lifting his head since he still was trying not to cry he mumbled a quiet, "Yes."

"I thought you were dead though!" The excited whisper was closer than he expected. Draco had moved to lean against the tree trunk right next to him.

"What do you mean you thought I was dead, I've never even seen you before today." Harry kept the same low volume, even if he didn't understand why they were whispering or why the blond boy was even talking to him still.

Draco seemed to puff up in pride in knowing something that Harry didn't. "Of course we've never met; Dumbledore had taken you that night before anyone could object. No one's known where you were for the last eight years, everyone just figured that Dumbledore was lying and actually had died that night with your parents."

"What are you talking about? Who is Dumbledore and my parents died in a car crash?" Harry was confused. This boy obviously had him mistaken for someone else; he didn't even consider that Draco was telling the truth.

Draco was confused too. He would have considered this a case of mistaken identity if not for the fact that the green eyed boy sitting in front of him had the famous lightning bolt scar on his forehead. The other boy seemed genuinely confused too, but how could he not know who Dumbledore was or believe that James and Lily Potter died in a car crash.

"Do you really not know?" Draco had to know if Harry Potter really didn't know what it meant that he was Harry Potter.

Harry shook his head as an answer. Draco really did seem surprised after he had asked his questions; was the other boy telling the truth?

"Well I don't know the whole story, only a little more than everyone else, but you defeated the Dark Lord when you were a baby." Draco had just said it so simply, like he had heard it his whole life. Harry couldn't help but be persuaded a bit, except for he had no idea what a Dark Lord was, and he hoped he didn't kill someone. "Dumbledore is the Headmaster of Hogwarts. During the war he was the leader of the opposition against the Dark Lord. Even though he's an important figure in the Ministry, no one understood why he was the one to place you in a new home after your parents were killed. "

Draco stopped his rambling, something no Malfoy was suppose to do, because Harry looked like he was going to faint. He didn't understand what was wrong with the smaller boy. Did he truly not know any of this? What purpose would keeping him in the dark be if he was so hidden that he was only found now, eight years later.

"What's wrong, what did I say?"

Harry didn't even know how to begin to answer that question. The other boy still seemed like what he was saying was common knowledge, except that it wasn't. Harry had read many history books and had never heard the name Dumbledore. Harry concluded that Dark Lords must be something similar to a mob boss. What really got to Harry was that Draco didn't seem to agree with his parents dying in a car crash, but Harry knew that was true.

When he was younger Harry had asked his aunt why he didn't have parents. She was actually nice that day, had purchased him an ice cream cone just like Dudley, so he had thought it was okay to finally ask the question that he always wanted to know the answer to. When they had arrived home Aunt Petunia had him on the couch and told him not to move, coming back with an old letter in hand. She had explained how when she opened the front door to get the paper that instead she found him, asleep in a basket on the front step. All that was with him was a blanket and a letter. The letter explained that his parents had died in a car crash that night and his only living relatives were his mother's sister. She had thought it odd at first, but everyone she asked had no information pertaining to any Potters. After finding the only solution was to keep him or take him to an orphanage, she did what she thought Lily would have done for Dudley, she kept him.

But this boy, Draco, seemed to think otherwise. That some man named Dumbledore had placed him at his aunt's house. Harry wasn't sure what to think about any of it.

"You didn't say anything wrong, but I still don't understand some things really." He looked into the other boy's eyes, the same grey eyes he sees every night, and wordlessly begged to be told the answers he wanted. "What's a Dark Lord?"

Draco froze. "You don't know what a Dark Lord is? Are you serious?" He didn't mean to sound harsh but he couldn't help it. Harry Potter didn't know what a Dark Lord was! Even if Dumbledore didn't tell the black haired boy things didn't muggles have Dark Lords? Seeing the stricken look he said in a gentle voice, "Don't muggles have Dark Lords?"

"What's a muggle?"

Harry thought Draco looked entirely too funny, and if it wasn't for the serious conversation he would have laughed. The blonde boys eyes were open entirely too wide and his mouth was hanging open, something that didn't suit the other boy at all.

"What do you mean what's a muggle! Do you really know nothing? Does Dumbledore even check up on you or anything?"

"I don't even know who Dumbledore is!"

Draco couldn't take anymore. Maybe this really wasn't Harry Potter. He stood up, determined to get to the bottom of this. If Draco Malfoy had a weakness, it was his need to know the answers to every question he had, and this was no different. There was only one person he trusted to confirm whether this was the real Harry Potter or not, and that was his father.

Harry didn't know why the other boy abruptly ran off, but he had been waiting for it to happen, especially after he seemed so ignorant. He was even grateful really, if Draco had actually been right, then that would mean everything he knew about his parents were lies. Still it hurt to know that he once again wasn't good enough to be someone's friend. Not wanting to be surrounded by people who he didn't even know, Harry decided he would rather read in his room.

It took more convincing than Draco wanted to get his father to go see if Harry was the real Harry Potter. By the time he had his father's hand in a death grip and dragging him back to the tree where Harry was sitting, the dark haired boy was already gone.

"But he was right there sitting against that tree, where could he have gone." A scan of the yard didn't provide any hints of where Harry could have gone.

"I don't know but I don't have time for games Draco." His father of course didn't seem as interested as Draco had hoped he would have been after hearing that Harry Potter was there, but he would prove that he was right.

"Darling, why would Harry Potter of all people be at this muggle birthday party? Maybe it really is just a boy that shares his name." Of course his mother could be right, but Draco wasn't sure still. He needed his father to confirm that the boy wasn't the savior of the wizarding world before he decided either way.

They didn't count on their conversation being overheard by the Dursley's.

Draco had never seen someone actually faint until Petunia Dursley just sort of fell to the ground. Narcissa Malfoy's eyes were filled with laughter even though her face remained as emotionless as ever. Lucius Malfoy just snorted in disgust; muggles were so pathetic.

Getting the neighbors to leave took longer than it should have. No one wanted to leave, they all wanted to make sure that Petunia was alright; it had nothing to do with wanting to know why she fainted of course, and they were good neighbors after all.

After Petunia had become coherent enough to walk, they all went into the house; trying to find Harry was the farthest thing from their minds. It was apparent to Lucius Malfoy that the word muggle wasn't something the Dursleys were unfamiliar with. That made him question where exactly they had heard the word before, and if Draco was right and Harry Potter had actually been at the party.

Harry heard the Dursleys come back inside. Thinking that it was time for him to start preparing supper, he headed down the stairs, hoping they didn't notice his absence at the party. What he didn't expect was the Dursley's and Draco Malfoy with his parents sitting in his living room drinking tea.


	4. The Best Friend

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: Here is another chapter, hope you like it. It's still very rough but am still in the process of finding a beta-reader, which will hopefully happen soon. **

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Harry would always remember his ninth birthday.

It wasn't just because he found out about magic, or how his parents really died, or even that he was famous in a world he didn't even remember.

No he would always remember it because that was the day he met his best friend.

The Dursleys weren't in a very agreeable mood that day. At least that's what Harry told himself. They had never been as cruel as they had after they had seen him standing on the stairs.

If it hadn't been for Mrs. Malfoy Harry thinks that his Uncle Vernon might have actually hit him. He's glad he would never know, because although his family doesn't remember that day – Mr. Malfoy did a spell to change their memories – Harry does and having to live with someone and knowing they could hit you at any time was something that didn't seem enjoyable.

After the Dursley's memories were changed, Draco's parents sat Harry down and explained some things.

How he was a wizard.

How his family was wizarding Nobility, one of the richest families in the wizarding world, had votes in the Ministry of Magic and on the board of Governors at Hogwarts, even how his mother had been considered a genius at charms.

How his parents were murdered by the Dark Lord for opposing him, and somehow he had survived the encounter with nothing but the scar on his forehead.

They kept explaining to him until the sun was rising about a world he was once a part of, a world he didn't remember, but a world he had already fallen in love with.

The day after his birthday Harry received his first letter from Draco.

They began a tentative friendship; exchanging letters every day. The Dursley's of course were suspicious at first. Harry had never received post before and then it started getting them every day. When they found out it was Draco Malfoy writing Harry, Vernon became furious. If any of his associates sons were to write anyone in his household it would be Dudley. Draco never stopped writing, and Vernon stopped complaining after Mr. Malfoy threatened to take his money elsewhere.

The more letters going back and forth, the more Harry learned about the wizarding world and magic.

At first they only asked questions about each other, wanting to know everything there was to know. But then as time passed as they began to get more comfortable with the other, they risked asking about family, friends, or just anything they could think of.

With more questions being asked that Draco had no answers for, he started to send books. Books that Harry devoured; it wasn't just questions that prompted Draco to send books though. No, he sent Harry books on anything he thought interesting or worth knowing.

When he sent a French book after mentioning that they vacationed there Harry practiced by writing his letters in French. When Harry declared one letter to Draco that he, "… loved learning new things, but French was something he knew he would be able to use in the future." Draco took that to mean he wanted to learn other languages; so soon followed German, Italian, and Latin. The last was something Draco insisted upon, claiming that only blood-traitors and mudbloods didn't know how to speak Latin properly.

That letter brought about Harry asking what blood-traitors and mudbloods were. Draco didn't want Harry to think he was only getting an opinion instead of facts, so Draco sent more books. Books on history, culture, etiquette, magical inheritances, and any other book that had information that a true pureblood would have been taught as a child; Harry liked the etiquette ones the most. The ones on the important wizarding families were the most informative though. It allowed Harry to see what past members of his family had accomplished; he was shocked to find out that the Potters were Dark more than they were ever Light. His grandparents were even Dark Wizards but everyone seemed to forget that.

The letters continued for two years.

Every day without fail Harry would find a letter waiting for him. He knew it was a spell that Mrs. Malfoy had done to his and Draco's post, but it still amazed him, even after reading book after book on the subject.

Harry couldn't wait for his eleventh birthday, after reading Hogwarts: A History, he knew that was when he would get his invitation to the school. Mrs. Malfoy had promised Draco that they would come for him the same day and he would stay with them the rest of the summer.

Harry and Draco were going to get to go to Diagon Alley to purchase all of their school supplies. Although Draco had gone many times, Harry had never been.

Draco promised for his birthday that he would buy Harry a new wardrobe; he said it wouldn't do for the Potter heir to wear nothing but the best. Harry just thought that Draco didn't like Harry's clothes, something that Harry would agree with. All of his clothes had been Dudley's at one point. When he was five he had found a book about altering clothes; hundreds of pricked fingers later his clothes had all been a much closer fit. The clothes fit him, but they still looked like hand me downs.

Harry had a month before his birthday and he knew the best way to spend it, reading.

The day of July 31st wasn't the usual overly done party on Privet Drive that had become expected. No that had happened a week before since Harry was to be going to stay with Draco. Instead the day was quiet up until when the mail arrived.

As usual Harry went to get the post, hoping to find his Hogwarts letter there.

He found it quickly; the parchment much thicker, distinguishable.

Not thinking about it he opened and quickly scanned the letter, it was just as he thought, but he still couldn't help the smile from blossoming on his face.

He was going to go to Hogwarts with Draco just like they had talked about. Even though Draco had reassured him many times over the years Harry had still had doubts about being able to go to such a prestigious school.

His smile left though when he saw his Uncle Vernon standing in front of him. He hadn't realized that he was taking longer than normal, and his uncle must have come to see what was holding him up, only to catch him with his Hogwarts letter.

He felt dread fill him. Knowing how his family felt about anything they felt abnormal, he knew something horrible was fixing to happen. He just hoped Draco showed up soon.

"What do you have there, huh boy?" Harry knew that he didn't matter how he answered, the only times Uncle Vernon ever talked to him was when he was looking to make trouble for Harry.

"It's a letter from a school." He didn't raise his head, knowing it was better not to look his uncle in the eye when he was angry; Uncle Vernon only took that as wanting to challenge him.

"So it's for Dudley then." Harry almost looked up at that. Everyone in that house knew that Dudley was already going to his father's old school, and even that took a bribe. No school would actually request for Dudley to go to their school, and Harry knew Uncle Vernon knew that. So why would he ask such a stupid question?

"No sir, it's for me."

"Stop lying boy, why would a respectable school want someone like you?" Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He wanted to laugh because his uncle just called a magical school respectable; but he couldn't help the hurt that he felt knowing what his uncle meant by someone like him. He had never forgotten what his family had called him on his ninth birthday.

Instead of answering Harry just handed Uncle Vernon his letter. If his uncle destroyed it he could just share with Draco.

Harry knew the minute the school was identified because his uncle yelled, "PETUNIA!"

Of course his aunt came running thinking the worst, which to them it might have actually been.

There was a shriek followed by whispering, Harry didn't dare look up. It was bad enough if Uncle Vernon was mad, but if Aunt Petunia was too, then Harry knew that Draco wouldn't be there in time to save him from being punished.

Since he wasn't looking he never saw his uncle's hand coming towards his face, but he felt it. He also felt the corner of the table in the hallway as he fell on it.

The pain was almost unbearable. He had already had a headache, something that always happened on his birthday, but with the pain of being hit and a sharp corner to his head made him seeing white spots.

He didn't know when he had started crying, but he couldn't seem to stop. It seemed that wasn't something his family wanted to be around though because his aunt had begged his uncle to throw him in his room, which he literally did.

Harry had curled up on his bed after Vernon had left, indulging in a rare moment of self pity. He had always done what his relatives asked, never complaining or causing problems, yet everything was always his fault or nothing was done correctly. All he wanted was for his family to love him. Since he had met Draco and his family and learned how his parents had actually died, he often wished his parents had just sided with the Dark Lord. If they had just concentrated on their family instead of fighting a war that was against the values of the Potters in the first place, they might still be alive, and Harry would never had to have suffered at the Dursleys.

He didn't know how long he had been in his room when Aunt Petunia came to his room and announced that the Malfoys were there to get him. He gathered his suitcase filled with his belongings, more than half of it was filled with books, and went down stairs.

Harry was more than ready to leave; he just hoped he wouldn't have to come back.


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